


Do Your Research

by RobespierreforFrance



Series: Non!Gryffindor Harry [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dumbledore Bashing, Good-ish Dudley Dursley, Gryffindor Neville Longbottom, Gryffindor Ron Weasley, M/M, Mental Disorders, More house switching, More tags later, Multi, Ravenclaw Harry Potter, Ravenclaw Hermione Granger, Slight Ron Weasley Bashing, Slytherin Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Fred and George Weasley, Smart Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2018-12-31 22:09:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12142161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobespierreforFrance/pseuds/RobespierreforFrance
Summary: It wasn't his fault. Not his parent's supposed "car crash" death; not his almost crippling OCD; not his ability to use teleportation. There wasn't anything wrong with him. It was all supposed to happen. Even the giant crashing into the house his relatives stashed themselves on for their escape of flying paper.It was all silly, really, to think anything differently. Definitely not something to dwell on.TL;DRHarry is sorted into Ravenclaw instead of Gryffindor with a few mental disorders. That doesn't hinder him though, no sirree bob.





	1. A is for Acceptance

**Author's Note:**

> I figured since I already have Hufflepuff!Harry and Slytherin!Harry (one showing badassary in Hufflepuff and real life social issues that need to be discussed severely in Slytherin) I figured I should add in Ravenclaw!Harry into the mix as well (showing that even people with mental disorders can go far and be considered smart). Plus, I've rarely seen a Harry in Ravenclaw that wasn't overly smart or completely sane and normal for society standards. I wanted to also try something different. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> :)

**Chapter 1: The Letter A**

 

 

 

Harry twitched yet again as he fumbled along the train. He had already settled his things on the train and kept anything important on his person; a shoulder strap bag that was charmed for the user to have an almost bottomless pit had been bought for him for personal reasons he had felt no need to discuss. He had no true intention to go anywhere nor was he looking for anything or even exploring. If he didn't go up and down the train at least three times, memorize exit points and count the number of students in each car each time around, he would feel that annoying and anxiety inducing itch that felt like a million bugs crawling underneath his skin again. And no matter how many times he ignored it or tried to scratch at it, it wouldn't go away until he did exactly what he needed to do.

He was already used to the stares he had gotten the first time he did it. He already knew his fame, he had read multiple and incorrect books that had been written about him. The fact that no one could get his description right had actually been a plus in all the inaccuracies. He didn't have flaming red hair like his mother nor did he have the devilishly handsome looks from his father. He wasn't particularly gifted in defeating multiple enemies at once (a fact he had tried multiple times as a child and was proven wrong through many trials and errors) and he wasn't five foot tall at the age of four. That last one was pure rubbish and he was even tempted to burn the book as soon as he read it if it wasn't for the fact that he would have someone incinerate it again and again and again until the itchy crawly feeling subsided. He had, instead, settled for tearing that page apart exactly twenty-one times, folding each crease four times before tearing it.

The facts were this: He was only a measly four-foot-ten at the age of eleven. He had unruly, inky black hair that no matter how many times he brushed, gelled, or cut it, it would always look like he woke up from a particularly bad dream. His eyes, being described by many of the autobiography authors as "the exact shade of twinkling emeralds", were actually just green with hazel curling around his irises - nothing special. He couldn't handle a bunch of bullies by himself, but he has come close; using his knowledge as leverage always gave him a less painful beating and an extra ten bucks in his borrowed pair of jeans. He also didn't have the most perfect of vision, having to rely on an old pair of wire frame glasses he's had since forever.

They described him as Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, a hero and the boy who defeated the Dark Lord at the young age of one year and three months. When in all actuality, he was Just Harry, a boy who could tie his shoes properly without the help of any adults at the age of six. The boy who's nightly ritual was to count the number of fingers on his hands three times, turn over, repeat, and then do the other side to be able to sleep properly. The boy who, at the age of five, had to learn how to cook bacon properly to feed his already fat uncle and didn't have anyone to save him until only weeks ago when a lumbering half-giant broke their front door of their hiding place to give him the letter he had craved to read just so his  _skin would stop itching_.

Harry sighed in relief when he finally managed to pace the entire length of the train three times. His legs burned from the exercise but he felt relaxed enough to finally look for a suitable compartment that he could relax the rest of the train ride to Hogwarts. A magical school he somehow knew he'd go to. But that's a discussion for another time.

He had managed to find one near the back of the train. A girl with large, bushy hair was sitting with a boy who looked about ready to bawl his eyes out. The girl was already in her entire school uniforms as she looked ready to devour the large book she was reading, which looked to be almost as large as her hair. The boy, a little pudgy and a little blonde, was curling the end of his shirt in his hands nervously, sniffling and looking around the compartment. He stopped when he noticed Harry standing awkwardly in front of the compartment doors.

Taking that as his queue, Harry slid it open and tucked himself between the doors as he gained both of their attention. He could tell the girl was somewhat annoyed at his appearance, but he could recognize the nervous twitch (a small and insignificant twitch, really) that, only seemed to Harry, rattle the book in her hands. 

"Do you mind if I sit here?" he asked. His voice, which wasn't as loud and booming and filled with chivalrous laughter like in his biographies, was quiet and almost hard to hear. Some would call it dainty if they couldn't hear the already oncoming baritone that was soon to fill in when he reached puberty. It was still very high compared to most his age, but he found it to be adequate enough for him. He waited a second before cracking a knuckle on both hands. "It seems that I didn't get the notice to claim a compartment for myself before finally realizing that I do, indeed, need a place to rest."

"Yes. Of course you can sit here. It would be rude of us to let you go wandering off..." the girl spoke up. She had trailed off, as if she was going to go off onto something else, but after a slight pause, she closed her mouth and decided not to. "Please, join us."

"Thank you." Harry cracked another knuckle, one on each hand, again.

He sat down besides the nervous blonde boy, who sniffled again but look away before Harry could take in any more details he couldn't before, which he was fine with, and turned to face the girl. She set down her book, slowly and reluctantly, and turned to focus all her attention onto Harry. 

"My name's Hermione Granger," she introduced. She jerked out her hand, practiced and poised as her words, and waited for Harry to take it. He did as he was silently instructed before giving his name.

"Harry. Harry Potter."

"Oh, so  _you're_ the famous Harry Potter," Hermione said, her eyes brightening. "I've read so much about you already and you--"

"--not like anything in the books?" Harry finished. He took small joy in seeing the young witch flush red in embarrassment but didn't push anything further. He didn't find it odd that someone would read up on him. "Yes, I've noticed that myself. I guess it's a common misconception that a hero must be entirely perfect. I seem to disappoint many once they find out who I am." Harry adjusted his glasses. He noticed that the boy next to him perked up a bit.

"Well," Hermione still flushed," I didn't really take much of that information to heart. Not since each description of you happened to change with each book." \

"Have you read the one where I happened to come into a creature inheritance at the age of eight and grew dragon wings the size of a hippogriff?" Harry asked. Despite being very wrong, he had found that bit of information to be quite hilarious. It would be impossible for an eight year old to even have that huge of a wingspan without falling over. But considering he was considered also seven-foot-six in that book, well...

"Oh yes, definitely. I would have expected there to be more news on whether or not that was true. A child, caught flying in the middle of London with that large a wingspan?" The witch cracked a nervous smile, relaxing only slightly. Harry mirrored her with a more calm smirk and a half-lidded gaze. But he turned his attention to the boy next to him.

"I'm sorry, I don't believe I've caught your name."

"N-Neville..."

"It's nice to meet you. Is something the matter?" Harry jumped to the point. He didn't want to continue talking about himself, for it was actually rather boring, and despite the aura Hermione was practically throwing at him, she wanted to know every little bit about him to write her own book.

"Oh! I, um, I lost my t-toad, T-T-Trevor. My Gran's gonna send a Howler for s-sure when she finds out," Neville stuttered, sniffling once more at the end of his sentence.

"Then don't tell her."

"But if I don't, it's going to be even worse!"

"How would you know if she doesn't know in the first place?" Harry asked. It seemed to stump the blonde wizard, who slumped miserably in his seat and leaned his head against the window. Harry did wonder how someone could easily lose a toad and look that miserable about it. It wasn't even that magical a creature, but each to their own, he guessed. 

Hermione took the silence as an opportunity to continue talking to Harry until Harry himself no longer wanted to talk. He was getting tired, his voice not used to answering so many questions at once from someone who's own brain power could be on parr with his own, so after an hour or two he pretended to fall asleep as Hermione started to go on a tangent. He knew it was rude, but it was something she was going to accept at some point, if they wanted to be friends. Not everyone can listen to someone ramble on and on, unless they're also a rambler.

He continued to keep his eyes closed, even as someone else entered the compartment looking for him, and when Hermione opened her mouth to speak and Neville shrunk in on himself, the person interrupted her and left without much further ado, with two sets of heavy footsteps following clumsily behind them. The brunette witch huffed and turned to her book and Neville sighed, and this time Harry did fall asleep.

 

***

 

The entire inside of Hogwarts was amazing, the Great Hall even more so. Faces of different hues lined up as they watched the small group of first years trample on between the blue table and the gold table, some jabbing others and pointing at their little sibling or a family friend. He could hear whispers of his name among the older years but clearly they couldn't tell who he was among the dozens of other children.

When Professor McGonagall called his name after Sally-Anne Perks was sorted into Hufflepuff, he could hear the Great Hall fall into a hush. He had already calculated the majority of the students and teachers were expecting him to be sorted into Gryffindor, like his dead and famous parents, but he didn't think so. He had read  _Hogwarts: A History_ which had a tiny section at the side of a couple of pages that gave a small summary of each house.

Hufflepuff was too hardworking and kind for his taste. Yes, it was all full of people that could be just as dangerous as the Dark Lord himself, but he simply couldn't handle living in a dorm that was underground. Slytherin was too ambitious. There was a time and a place and they simply didn't seem to understand that. They were also clever but not as clever as he liked to think of himself as. Gryffindor was definitely out of the question. He wasn't going to follow in the footsteps of his parents and he wasn't going to be as naive as everyone else and think he belongs with a bunch of people that had no true sense of bravery. Especially if he had any of the other claimed Gryffindors that pushed past him on the train only hours before, being so rude as to call him out on what he had no control over. And Ravenclaw, while it wasn't entirely full of smart people, well, that seemed to be the only house left. It seemed as though most of the talented and smart witches and wizards went there, but then there were the oddballs that had invented some pretty hilarious joke charms and other out of this world ideas and even many artists came from there. If anything, it would be rather right if Harry was sorted into--

" _ **RAVENCLAW!**_ "

And then the table under the blue and bronze flags were cheering louder than they've ever had before.


	2. B is for Bold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I should probably update some of my other Harry Potter works, but I should tempt people into thinking that I'll be active on this one for at least a little while until writer's block decides to hit me in the boobs and incapacitate me for a few weeks... Weird imagery, I know...
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> :)

**Chapter 2: The Letter B**

 

 

It took awhile for Harry to finally get to sleep that night. He wasn't the only one but he was a hundred percent sure that his reasons were much more different than the other nine first years that were with him. Theirs were surely for nerves of the next day and what they would learn. His was because of that stupid tick that seems to run his life. And partly because of tomorrow.

He started the night as he usually did: counting the number of people that were in the area and name them. Usually it was just him counting himself, Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and Dudley, so it didn't take long for him to do that part. Their names were also easy to do since he's known them for all of his life. Tonight was much harder.

There were ten people still in the common room and only six of them were first years. So he had Hermione's help for their names because he was sure that she's always paying attention twenty-four-seven.

Anthony Goldstein (blonde, skinny), Michael Corner (Blackett, annoying), Hermione Granger (bushy haired, friendly), Sue Li (Plain, respectful), Mandy Brocklehurst (redheaded, quiet) and himself, Harry Potter (famous, weird). 

Harry dreaded the next four but he gathered up whatever was left of his courage and went up and asked their names. They were, of course, happy to give their names to  _the_ Harry Potter, so he was at least grateful that his name was everywhere for once. 

There was two second years: Eddie Carmichael (prideful, annoying) and Cho Chang (pretty, shy). A third year, Amelia Turner (ditzy, blonde), and a sixth year, John Strider (nerd, joyous), were the last two. 

When this was done he then had to touch every piece of furniture at least twice before he could comfortably go up to bed. There was a lot and he was thankful that his urges never really had the power to make him touch every shelf on the numerous bookcases that littered the common room. A couple of students had given him a weird look, some out of sympathy and some confused, but they left him to it. The only one who didn't mind was Hermione, who he was sure had figured out in the first few minutes of meeting each other about his... condition. 

He was exhausted by the time he managed to climb up the staircase and to the first year boy dorms. There were four four-poster beds with sapphire blue curtains draped over the top and along the side. One was already closed and Harry could faintly hear Terry Boot (brunett, unknown) snoring behind it. Harry repeated his ritual, which was much shorter than in the common room. He was also glad to see that his trunk, which he was reluctant to leave on the train hours earlier, was situated besides the bed that was nearest to the entrance of the room.

Harry didn't waste time in changing into his nightclothes, a plain large shirt that hung off his shoulders whenever he moved wrong that was given to Harry just weeks before he left by Dudley. The boy, who was just as large and overbearing as his father, had noticeably calmed down his abuse against his younger cousin and almost doted on him in his own way. It wasn't subtle, especially for Harry who spent most of his free time people watching, but it didn't seem as if Aunt Petunia nor Uncle Vernon noticed him wanting the same things Harry had been looking at only slightly longer than normal. They usually bought the thing and Dudley would have it for enough time to "get bored with it" and throw it in Harry's direction. His night shirt was actually a newer hand-me-down that his cousin had lost true interest in.

Slipping into his bed, he took off his glasses and continued to contemplate his day. It wasn't entirely necessary to function, but there had been so many new things that his eleven-year-old brain just couldn't help it.

He had made actual friends this time, no pity friends that would later be chased off by someone or himself. Hermione was odd but nice and she's obviously new to the friendship thing as well (he couldn't help wondering if she knew about her Shakespearean counterpart but didn't feel the need to question her about it unless the topic brought it up). Neville was definitely shy about many things but Harry knew that he'd do well in Gryffindor. He hoped he made lots of Inner-House friends, for he was sure it would be impossible for the three of them to meet in each other's common rooms in the middle of the night. 

He was going to learn actual magic. Despite Uncle Vernon's and Aunt Petunia's constant reminders that magic did not exist, there were too many things saying that their fact was false. Magic was essentially everywhere. People used to think that science was magic and there's no doubt that science and magic held some form of relationship, even distantly. Biology was obviously not magic but chemical and physical reactions and potions surely must be related. Harry did wonder what was going on with his scar though. Earlier that evening it had hurt more than it ever had (that he could remember anyways). Hermione had asked him if he was okay, once he let loose the hiss of pain, but no one else seemed to notice. It was probably better that way. It had happened when Harry and the professor dressed in all black had looked at each other directly. It didn't escape his notice that lip twitch of disgust that appeared on his face. But it didn't add up that just by merely looking at a professor would make an old flesh wound flare up so suddenly. He tried remembering what else had happened at that point but it was just a brick wall and the back of Professor Quirrell's turban. 

Harry felt his eyelids begin to droop.

He would make note on any further pain in the future.

 

***

 

He didn't like Professor Snape one bit.

The man -- if he even deserved to be called so -- decided to try and make a fool of Harry on the first day of school. Considering where he was placed and his odd habits he was sure Snape would think that was a bad idea. But the incessant questioning just because of a stupid scar on his face was truly annoying. It would only take an idiot to not realize that you find a beozar in the stomach of a goat and that it would help save a person from most poisons. Harry may have some truly odd quirks but stupidity wasn't one of them.

Snape even had the audacity to constantly call out everything Harry did wrong throughout the entire potions lesson, even after Neville nearly blew his face right off and was sent to the medical wing of the school. By the end of the lesson, Harry kept cracking his fingers and wringing his poor shirt sleeves in an effort to not blow up in the face of his teacher. Whatever pissed Snape off must have happened a long time ago and obviously was related to Harry in someway. From the comments he had kept getting from the adults around him, he was sure it might have been his father. Well, Harry certainly isn't his father. 

Harry wondered if he'd been treated differently if he was more like his mother. Red hair, green eyes, daintiness all around... Well, that last part was just a hypothetical guess. He actually wasn't sure what she was like in school. Maybe  _she_ was the real bully and it was his eyes that kept throwing his professor off... Nah, unlikely.

By lunch he was exhausted and hungry and gave up on any rules that might have existed before sitting down at the Gryffindor table. Some people had stopped talking all together but Harry ignored it, even if Hermione kept yammering in his ear that it was against the rules ("If it's against the rules, Hermione, why did you follow me over?").

"How is your face feeling Neville?" Harry asked the blonde boy. His face was bright red and still had some boils on his skin but the swelling was much better than it was in class earlier that morning. 

"I-It's a bit sore... Should you really be sitting over here, Harry? Other houses don't normally sit together like this..." Neville looked ready to pull duck his head as far as he could into his body and Harry was oddly reminded of a turtle. 

"I've had a long morning with annoying questioning, which you luckily got to miss. I think I deserve to have an enjoyable lunch with my friends."

Both Hermione and Neville froze and the bushy haired girl stuttered out,"F-Friends?"

"Yeah. I may be new at this as everyone else, but you're my friends, right?"

"Yeah, Harry. We're friends."

If the three of them had the largest smile on their faces, no one noticed or commented. Anyone else that objected to the two Ravenclaws sitting at the wrong table was quickly shushed by a pair of trouble making twins who just couldn't help but overhear the earlier confessions and thought the three firsties were absolutely the cutest... not like their brother, who outgrew the word "cute" by the time he started eating portions bigger than his head...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a short chapter but at least I have something out now :)
> 
> In case some of you are wondering, I'm not glorifying Snape. He was an asshole. At first I was sympathetic with everything that happened to him by the end but that doesn't mean he deserves it. He had such a huge grudge over James that he was a giant asshole to Harry for seven hole years. Screw Snape. He can get his sympathy from someone else. In this fic, he's gonna be a huge asshole like he was in the original storyline (maybe slightly crueler cause I am also a dick to my characters :P)
> 
> If you have any questions, don't be afraid to ask and I'll answer them when I update this next :D


	3. C is for Catalyst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flying lessons aren't really that interesting. Even if you gain a friend out of it... Would you call this friendship?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo! So it's been over a month since I last posted but never fear, for I AM HERE! Kudos to whoever gets that reference or even reads the author notes.
> 
> I know that since the first sentence in this series that nothing has really been canon (unless you count some people in the sorting and Professor Snape being a dick), so it shouldn't come to a shock that even the famed remembrall/flying sequence would be different. 
> 
> Also, I know it says Lily/James/Snape in the tags bu I'll get to it eventually. Some may have already guessed (it's sorta predictable) to what happened but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoy Chapter 3! Let me know your thoughts in the comments! :D
> 
> :)

**Chapter 3: The Letter C**

 

There had been a scheduling conflict for the flying lessons. Harry had been deeply annoyed at the last minute change but it couldn't be helped. Hermione, who Harry guessed was understanding his odd behavior more and more everyday, helped him calm down and prevented anymore hair from being torn from his head. He had been so ready, already envisioning what was going to happen and preparing himself to be with Hufflepuffs  _only_.

Instead, Madam Hooch had an family emergency come up the day that the Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw flying lessons were to begin, meaning that they had to be grouped on the same day as the Gryffindor/Slytherin lessons. It irked him greatly but the thought that Hermione and himself wouldn't be leaving poor Neville alone to defend himself from some rather nasty Slytherins and Gryffindors alike helped him a little -- and Hermione threatened to freeze him once again before he tore out more hair.

The day was cold and dreary, as was to be expected in September, though the day before it was still warm and sunny. One of the Hufflepuffs muttered to a friend that it would most likely warm up once the marine layer lifted but Harry stopped paying attention once more students began to arrive on the training field. 

He recognized many of the students from his classes. There was Hannah Abbott, the first to be sorted and the first Hufflepuff of their year. She was in pigtails today, her left one being a little more to the front than the right but nothing too serious. She was laughing with a Gryffindor boy he couldn't remember very well other than the fact that he either enjoyed exploding things or he had little control over his magic that things just so happened to explode. The twins of their year were huddled together, talking only with each other, as if they were a bit shy and unused to being separated. Harry could only remember Padma because he was in his own house. Her sister, though, was a tricky one to remember correctly. And then of course there was Hermione, Neville and Ron Weasley, who made a rather rude impression when they crossed paths that didn't endanger them to a detention for being late to class. The redhead had the audacity to wonder about his scar truly being there and ask him questions that were clearly impossible for him to do ("Is it true that you wrestled an Occamy fifteen times your size? Cause I bet that would get you some gnarly scars!").

Lastly was the slicked blonde hair that sometimes bobbed at the corners of his vision. He could see him snickering at him sometimes, in the back where no professors or himself could see properly (Harry enjoyed sitting in the front. It was a danger to most for it meant being in the stare of a professor and you couldn't pass notes but for Harry it meant safety for many reasons). It intrigued him and made the black haired Boy-Who-Lived wonder what exactly was so funny? The familiar itchiness that crawled dangerously under his skin kept appearing each time the blonde came across his vision or thoughts that he was seriously considering ripping the pieces off just to get to the annoying itch that wouldn't go away. What kept him from doing it was the practical part of his brain kept telling him it would be impossible for that to happen and he could seriously hurt himself.

But as soon as the blonde boy arrived, so did Madam Hooch, so Harry didn't have time to officially introduce himself to the highborn. 

The flying instructor was almost the most interesting person he's met. She had short gray hair and hawk-like eyes that seemed to glow a pure amber. The scene from book "Jurassic Park" by Michael Crichton*, where they find the dino DNA in gnats and ticks fossilized and preserved in amber. Of course, Dudley let him use his working computer and monitor to look up what amber even looked like for Harry to get the right image, but that was excusable. 

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" Madam Hooch barked. She took a stern stance, hands on her hips as the first years mingled closer together. "Everyone stand by a broomstick! Come on, hurry up." 

All the students bolted to a broomstick. Harry managed to get one that didn't look like it was hit by a truck a thousand times over but it still looked pretty terrible. It was old and it's bristles looked like it needed to either be trimmed or redone. He was a little nervous to fly, but he was sure nothing too terrible should happen to him while he's here. A teacher would surely stop it.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom and say 'Up!'" Everyone did as they were told, some managing to get the broom to zoom into their unsteady hand while other's had theirs still twirling listlessly on the ground. A very few didn't even move. Harry's almost knocked him over if he wasn't somewhat expecting it. He couldn't hide the snort when Ronald Weasley's broom whacked him in the face.

When Madam Hooch had finished giving other instructions (showing students the proper way to grip their brooms and such), the joyous and nervous attitude took a quick turn. A yelp was all it took to get everyone's attention.

Poor Neville Longbottom, Harry's first friend, was slowly rising into the air. He looked ready to pass out from the height and Harry worried his friend would actually do so while in the air. Madam Hooch's whistle, which was almost ready to blow, dropped from her lips as she shouted at the poor blonde.

Despite her efforts (poor as they were), Neville kept rising higher and higher until he let loose his grip and plummeted to the ground. He landed harshly, a nasty crack following soon after and many of the first years crowded around the boy to check on him. Madam Hooch had to push them to get through the sea of students to check on the boy herself.

"Broken wrist," Harry heard her mutter. "Come on, boy - it's alright, up you get." She helped Neville get of the ground, said boy cradling his wrist that seemed to twist wrongly at the hand and it looked like some of the Gryffindors were gonna be sick. 

"Non of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing!" she said, turning to the rest of the first years. "You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch'!" Then she turned back to the hurt Gryffindor. "Come on, dear." 

And off the two went, Neville clutching his wrist closer to his chest as they walked to the castle.

Once they were out of sight, the blonde seemed to jump into action. He began to tease the boy, dragging in his Slytherin classmates while doing so as they laughed at Neville's pain. A part of Harry was fuming and he had to hold back his temper before he ran up to the prat and punched his lights out. He knew how to punch, for his cousin taught him well enough to do so that would give the other guy the most pain. 

One of the twins, the Not-Padma-One, told the boy - Malfoy as Harry overheard, though he guessed that was his surname - to shut his lips, though that caused one of the blonde's posse to take some harsh words out on her. The twin flushed slightly, though Harry could tell it wasn't anything  _but_ anger.

"Look," said the blonde. He moved quickly to the circular object that could barely be seen on the frost covered grass - Neville's remembrall. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him." It glittered in the sun that was starting to peak through the clouds.

"Excuse me," Harry said, starting to speak up. "But I don't believe that's yours." Now he head everyone's attention. Hermione's was the face that caught his attention the most - a warning to not mess around.

"Oh, and you think it's your's,  _Potter_?" the blonde, Malfoy, spat out his name as if it were poison. 

"Of course not, that would be silly. It doesn't have my name on it, nor does it have yours. Well, it doesn't have Neville's either so it really could be anyone's but since we all know it's Neville's, it shouldn't technically have his name on it but that's going away from the point," Harry said. 

"Huh?"

Harry's words seemed to have stumped the poor boy. Many seemed to expect Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived to go up to Malfoy fuming and ready to kick butt and take names. But Hermione looked ready to dig a hole for herself in embarrassment. Somehow she knew that Harry would just go onto an embarrassing tangent that could lead to him defending the side he was going up against. 

Harry shook his head. "Nevermind. I was actually wondering if you could just hand that over so I could return it. Neville's my friend, you see, the first if you couldn't tell, but I think it would mean so much to him if you could just hand it over and I could give it back to him in one piece. I mean, he did seem to forget that he didn't wear his robes this morning so it could be of great help to him."

"Potter, are you mad?"

"No, but it may seem like it. I'm actually quite calm, really. I've also been meaning to ask who you are. I sort of remember you trying to get to me before the Sorting but it never did work out, did it? Well, I'm Harry, so now it's your turn to give me your name, as is custom."

"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

"Well then, Draco, could you please hand me Neville's thing so I shall return it? I'll give you something in return, if you'd like. That seems to be something common amongst what I could gather from observing the older Slytherin students."

"Exuse me?"

"I mean, I could be your friend, you be mine, Neville get's his remembrall back and you can brag to your other friends and your family can brag too that you're friends with the Boy-Who-Lived, though I still don't see my fame as something to gain power from."

Draco was silent, processing the information, for a few minutes. He twirled the ball in his hands as he remembered all the things Lucius Malfoy, his father, had told him about the Light's Savior. He was supposed to be a brash Gryffindor that would do anything to be in the spotlight. A boy that hated Slytherins and would most likely become a playboy at the age of twelve. A boy that would be great for power.

But before him stood a scrawny boy that seemed to be related to the Weasleys if it weren't for the fact that Harry's casual clothes looked to be only a couple sizes bigger then him. A boy that was sorted into the house of intelligence and creativity that used his words and seemed to have odd ticks that Draco had spent the first week of school making fun of because who wouldn't find an impaired hero hilarious when one was raised to think he was all mighty and powerful. A boy who seemed to be as misunderstood as the Malfoy family and Draco (should he dare think it?) could almost sense something of kinship between the two, something that held the two boys at the same level. That they were just boys, nothing too special other than their names and where they came from.

So Draco did the only smart thing he's done since he arrived.

He handed the remembrall back to Harry, shook his hand, and walked away from a fight he was sure he wouldn't win. One does not simply enter a debate with a Ravenclaw - even a weird one like Harry. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I did some quick research that said the book came out in November 1990 so whether or not they came to the UK before Harry started schooling doesn't really matter, and I can't really know if it was or not. 
> 
> Some of the sentences are similar to the book with maybe the format or a word changed. Obviously the interaction between Draco and Harry are completely different. 
> 
> I also wanna see if anyone can spot the minor references I made to some fandoms :D


	4. D is for Deviant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fixed some problems in the last chapter that user el33ri pointed out to me. I thought I fixed them a week or so ago but when I went about rereading the chapter... well I found more. The problem of having three different Harry Potters I have to keep track of with a possible fourth coming on the way. 
> 
> Anyways, I'm going to try and get a normal updating schedule to try and update my stories at least once a week. If I don't, then I'm possibly busy or completely forgot. 
> 
> I hope you all have a wonderful holiday this week (for those in the US seeing as Canada already celebrated it in October and Europe doesn't celebrate Thanksgiving or Black Friday)!
> 
> Please let me know if you notice any mistakes (minus grammar, spelling, or a missing letter)! I do have three Harry's and I won't be surprised if I get some mixed up. Especially since on of them is a redhead.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> :)

**Chapter 4: The Letter D**

 

 

Halloween came faster than it ever had before for Harry. He guessed it was due to the fact that no one planned for Halloween this year. He wasn't taken out of the house with Aunt Petunia, looking for the best Halloween decorations so they could finally one-up Number Two; Dudley wasn't trying to figure out what scary costume he was gonna wear so he could scare girls into peeing themselves (he usually made Harry do all the brainstorming and the harder parts of the crafts as he was the smarter of the two but Harry didn't particularly like the scaring parts of his plan); and Uncle Vernon wasn't telling him to change the channel in the middle of dinner when an annoying commercial for Halloween came on that would disrupt the already broken routine of dinner. So when he woke up on Halloween, well rested and a bit perturbed, he knew something wrong was going to happen.

Harry had gotten up, dressed into his school robes and went down to the Great Hall with Hermione trailing behind him, her nose in a book. She had nearly bumped into a wall while they were leaving the common room that Harry had a hand gripped onto the sleeve of her robes to make sure she didn't fall off one of the moving stairs.

They met Neville at the Gryfiindor table and sat down besides him, Harry piling some foods he's seen Hermione eat before on her plate, doing the same for Neville who flushed and sputtered something along the lines of "Harry you don't have to do that every time..." and then put his usual breakfast on his own plate. By the time he finished, the morning post came flying through.

Hedwig, who normally didn't have much to give him other than the Quibbler (which came once a month) or the Daily Prophet (which came daily unless an evening edition was necessary), dropped a small envelope with familiar flowery designs along the edges. Curious, Harry picked it up after setting the Prophet to the side, and turned it over.

His name was written in Dudley's scrawl, "Hogwarts" written below that as a Muggle Stamp was placed at the top right corner. Obviously Dudley needed to tell Harry something or else he wouldn't have sent Harry anything at all.

Dudley and Harry's relationship was truly something interesting. His mother and father, Harry's Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, weren't really happy that Harry was living in their home. While they didn't physically abuse him (though sometimes there might have been a hit upon the head for Harry's fumbling fingers almost burning the house down once in a while) they did so verbally. Dudley did so at first too until a new student came in while they were both seven. She had what was called Tourettes syndrome and that had attracted Dudley to her. She would randomly say something and while the children laughed at what was said (or gasped if she slipped out a slur on the rare occasion) she would look down, embarrassed. Dudley, being unobservant as he usually was, had a schoolboy crush on her. 

Harry did agree that she was indeed pretty, but wasn't entirely attracted to her as Dudley was. His cousin would pull at her auburn pigtails and push her down the slide when she was taking too long, jeer at her when she twitch her shoulders and then snap her fingers, but stare at her whenever possible, even if she was sitting rows behind him in class. Harry recognized what it was, took longer than he'd like to admit, and told Dudley, who beat him up right after with flushed cheeks.

But the girl began to show Dudley something that Harry possibly couldn't - people were different and they had things that they can't control. By then Harry was already showing some pretty weird signs that didn't add up to his "magic" side. He did things Dudley didn't understand, like walking around the living room and touching all the furniture and mumbling his and his parent's names under his breath. But after a couple of months of the girl being the object of Dudley's hidden affections, he changed. Not drastically but the punches Harry received didn't hurt as much and the food that Harry usually got that were leftovers from Dudley seemed to grow slightly. His clothes didn't have as many holes as they usually did once Dudley grew bored of them and he even got some toys that weren't in that terrible of a shape. He nearly had a complete set of military men that didn't look as if they barely survived a volcano explosion. 

When she moved Harry was sure things were going to end up as they were before. He was actually surprised his hypothesis of going back to being barely full and completely miserable was debunked. Dudley continued his small actions towards Harry, though he was still mean at times, but Harry would always cherish the few memories he had of Dudley being nice to him in public.

Opening the letter he cocked a small smile at the many pictures that fell out. Neville had glanced curiously at them, surprised that they weren't moving like all of the wizarding pictures, and picked one up to study. All of them were of number four privet drive's Halloween decorations and Dudley's Halloween costume for that year. He was going as a troll and even had a foam club covered in fake blood leaning against his shoulder. He looked quite proud and in the small note he provided with the pictures said so as well. 

"Why aren't they moving?" Neville asked, handing Harry the picture he was holding. It was of his Aunt Petunia putting up some of the cobwebs that were hanging outside of the window.

"Muggle photographs don't move. They don't have magic so they're all still. Unless you go to the cinema, which does have moving pictures. A bunch of them per second, actually, though they call them frames instead," Harry explained. He gathered all of the photos and stuffed them into the envelope, planning to send a thank you note with Hedwig sometime later. He figured Dudely put it in the mail and a wizard mailman must have sorted it into the wizarding mail to be sent to him that morning. The magic world was truly intriguing.

"Sinymah?"

"Close. Cin-e-ma, Neville."

"Oh."

Hermione must have finished her chapter or was satisfied for the moment for then she started up a small conversation between the three of them. It lasted the rest of breakfast and the way to their shared charms class, where they were forced to end once Professor Flitwick walked up to his podium and began the lesson.

The lesson involved making objects fly, which they all had been excited to learn once Professor Flitwick made Trevor fly near the beginning of the year. Flitwick paired them into groups: Hermione with Ron Weasley, Harry with Seamus Finnigan, and Neville was with a girl with rather curly hair and a butterfly headband in her long tresses. 

"Swish and flick," Professor Flitwick reminded them, his own wand in his hand." Remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too - never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest." 

Then they were off. It was a difficult spell and making the feather in front of them fly was harder than they thought in theory. A part of Harry's brain kept bringing up the possibilities of physics and gravity being the problem and he tried taking it out of his mind. Thinking something like that could possibly be the reason why it wasn't working. The rational part of his brain, the muggle one, was trying to stay out of the magical realm. 

Besides him, Hermione was trying to explain the spell to her partner. "You're saying it wrong," she said, snapping at Ron. "It's Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa, make the 'gar' nice and long."

Ron, his temper as red as his hair, reared it's ugly head at that. "You do it, then, if you're so clever!"

Hermione huffed, rolled back the sleeves to her robes, swished and flicked, said "Winggardium Leviosa!" and the three of them watched the white feather float off of the desk and into the air.

She was praised by their head of house and she flushed red in pride. Ron didn't like that and glared at the feather that was floating back down onto the desk. Harry was snapped out of watching by an explosion besides him and noticed that his partner was covered in soot and his feather no longer existed. He resisted the sigh that was sure to come out of his lungs and raised his hand to request another feather. 

It was after class that things seemed to go wrong. In front of them, Seamus, Ron and Dean Thomas were walking and the redheaded Gryffindor was complaining, quite loudly, about Hermione. She had burst into silent tears and rushed past them, leaving Harry and Neville behind. The anger he had felt at Draco only weeks before came back and this time he didn't hold back. 

Marching up to the prick, Harry glared at Ron Weasley. "You are by far one of the rudest people I've ever met," he began. "You accuse my friend that she can't be tolerated and you barely know her. You say she's a nightmare but you've only shared, maybe, a couple hours entirely with her. You don't understand how she feels or acts nor do you seem to hold your temper. You, mister Weasley, are truly the nightmare, because I'm surprised your friends can stand  _you_." Then he left, heading to the next class that Ravenclaw had and hoped Hermione was there so he could do his duty as "friend" and comfort her because of an idiot named Ronald Weasley. 

He left a dozen jaws dropped, the largest being Ron's who face didn't look at all apologetic but rather bright red. He was the first to close his mouth and stormed off to his own class, fuming more then he was before.

 

***

 

Harry couldn't find Hermione until dinner. He didn't at all feel that hungry after lunch when she wasn't there either, so he decided to skip dinner so he could look for his friend. Neville offered to go but he was declined politely and pressured by Harry to go eat, for Neville didn't eat that much during lunch as he was stressed about the oncoming potion lesson. 

As he was leaving, Draco came around the corner and bumped into Harry, making the smaller of the two sprawl out on the floor. The slytherin stared dumbly at the Ravenclaw that now was flat on the cobblestone of the castle. He was sure that he should have been in the Great Hall by now, for over the past few days Harry was always there five minutes before everyone else. Not that Draco was keeping tabs on the dark haired boy, not at all.

"Potter, what in Merlin are you doing?" he couldn't help to question.

"I'm looking for Hermione."

"Your little... Muggleborn friend?" he asked again. He didn't seem all to pleased to call her that but the first time Draco called her his preferred slur he was given a Dudley approved punch to the face and a stern talking to that he was sure was from his own mother. He was trying not to call Granger... that... while in the presence of Harry Potter for his cheek still hurt even weeks after the bruise had healed. And Professor Snape wouldn't even hear of an excuse as to why he was punched after Harry told him. How he even believed Harry considering the dislike he had over the dark haired boy, Draco didn't know.

"Yeah, Ron hurt her feelings earlier this morning and I haven't found her after she ran off. Do you mind helping me find her?"

"Why don't you get Longbottom to help you? Surely he'd be better at finding Granger, since he can actually stand her presence." Draco just wanted to go for he was sure it would be awkward to be even near Granger, even if they found her.

"I made sure he'd eat something since he didn't during lunch. You don't have to if you don't want to. It'll just be nice to have another set of eyes looking for her."

"As much as I'd--"

Draco was interrupted by a scream coming from the girls bathroom that was down the hall, followed by a loud crash and a smell that surely couldn't come from a human. Another scream and another crash made the two boys rush towards the girls bathroom and peak inside.

Sitting on the floor, with broken stalls and sinks everywhere, was Hermione, looking up at in fright as a troll stumbled towards her, which explained the stink. How they didn't notice the putrid scent was a mystery but none really thought too much about it as they jumped into action. Which meant Draco hiding behind the wall as Harry rushed to Hermione to drag her away, just in time as the troll's club came crashing down on where she was.

It roared in rage and turned towards the two Ravenclaw students. And being as smart as they were, they did the only rational thing that they could think of: run the hell out of there, Draco following their lead. The troll raged behind them, following them out of the girls bathroom and into the halls of the castle.

"What the hell did you do, Granger!?" Draco yelled, running besides her. He glanced back, fear on his face as his Malfoy mask slipped entirely. 

"How the hell should I know?!" she cried back, clutching onto Harry as they turned a corner. They didn't stop to rest as they noticed Professor Snape exiting a door and locking it, blood on his leg, which the three noted to ask about later as they called out to him. He looked startled to see them but even more so as he noticed the pissed off troll behind the three students.

Quickly ushering them behind him, he pulled out his wand and uttered something under his breath. The troll's club, which had been hanging over his head as he prepared to swing as lifted out and dropped suddenly before he realized it, knocking him out cold. It fell to the ground with a crash and alerted any nearby teachers that were searching the area. As soon as McGonagall and Quirrel rounded the corner and gasped at the sight, Snape rounded on the three behind him.

"What in Merlin's name possessed you three to fight a troll  _and_ go through the third floor corridors?" he snarled.

"We didn't know there was a troll, Professor," Hermione said, hiding behind the two boys, catching both her wits and her breath. "I was just in the bathroom before heading to the Great Hall and suddenly a troll was standing behind me."

"And your companions?"

"Potter asked me to help look for Granger for one of the Gryffindor first years caused some problems with his attitude, Professor," Draco stepped forwards. "Before I could decline we heard the commotion in the girl's bathroom and noticed Granger on the floor and Potter saved her before she could get killed. We ran before it could kill us and just happened upon you. We didn't know about the troll either."

"Why was there a troll in the castle anyways, Professor?" Harry asked. "And why were you in the third corridor? What's wrong with your leg?"

"Mister Potter, that is none of your business," Snape growled, moving his dark robes to cover his injured leg. "Since none of you broke any rules that you obviously didn't know of," he looked at Draco, initiating something that looked like he was going to grill the eleven year old for more information later," no points shall be taken. I want all of you to head back to your dorms and if I find out that you weren't there in ten minutes, I will take points away for not listening to a professor's instructions." He then turned to his fellow professors, glaring down at the quivering Quirrel who looked more disappointed than he should.

Harry and Hermione couldn't have been told twice as they high tailed it out of there but Draco lingered for a couple seconds longer, studying the three carefully before following in his yearmate's lead. Something didn't seem right...  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did some research on Tourettes while I did this chapter and based some of the symptoms from South Park characters. While I agree that South Park was doing it as a joke for that entire episode, there was truth and something to learn from that entire episode. There was even a meeting where children with Tourettes explain what it exactly was. It's not something to make fun of but I put it in this chapter to give character development to MY Dudley Dursley and explain more about his and Harry's relationship.


	5. E is for Erosion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hullo! I'm back and trying to stick to my weekly updates! And now I'm going to answer some questions that have appeared.
> 
> To M_Yeager: I plan to keep this as all 7+ years. I want to get through years 1-3 as quickly as possible for as while they're important for character development, the more major parts of Harry's life happens year 4 and up.   
> As for my inspiration? Well, I got real tired of seeing Ravenclaw!Harry being extremely smart and perfect. Characters have flaws and I've never seen a smart!Harry also have mental health issues. Plus I had hoped to help my friend prove that OCD wasn't perfectionism but can be rather serious. That's why I don't have him fixing things and have him express what's going on when things just aren't right. 
> 
> Also, to those that read the comments and see the deleted comment with my own still there, a reader (for whom I shall not name) thought I condoned bullying. I just wanted to clear things up in case some of you thought the same when you read my note at the end of the second chapter (or so): I don't condone it. I've been bullied and while it was light and could be considered teasing, those I've adopted into my family have had it worse. Snape won't be glorified because he's an asshole to a child for 7 years and if Rowling thinks I'm going to like him after he "redeemed" himself for a couple of chapters or minutes (for movie!verse), then she has another thing coming. I will have him have a better character development then what I was satisfied with and have more interactions with Harry but he won't be seen in a good light until much, much, MUCH later.
> 
> Sorry if this causes the chapter to be extremely long. I just wanted to get this off of my chest before I continued writing or I forget.
> 
> Anyways, you have a story to read!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> :)

**Chapter 5: The Letter E**

 

Harry didn't mention much of what had happened on Halloween night to anyone other than Neville. The little blonde first year had begun to worry when he didn't find Hermione  _or_ Harry return before the school was sent into a flurry of panic. He didn't fair much better when he was given the full exclusive story from Hermione and Harry himself. There wasn't anything he could do, though, for he was sure that any threat he tried to make would not only fall flat but would also be ignored.

What was curious though was the quiet looks the trio began to receive almost daily from the Slytherin table. Draco Malfoy, who didn't ease up on the teasing on Neville, was oddly quiet for the rest of the week. When he did speak it was when he was questioned in class or he just couldn't keep his opinions to himself. It wasn't anything different from what he normally did but he wasn't boasting or threatening anyone about his father.

"He's up to something!" Hermione exclaimed near the end of the week, slamming her Transfiguration textbook shut. Despite the light chatter in the library, her voice still echoed. She was shushed by an upperclassmen, in which she flushed in return and looked apologetic. 

"I don't understand," Neville muttered, resting his head on his arms on the table, looking ready to fall asleep right then and there. "Who's up to something?"

"Malfoy! Surely there must be something being conjured up in that infuriatingly close-minded brain of his!" she whispered, leaning closer to the two boys across from her. "Why else would he be quiet about witnessing the troll in action?"

This time Harry spoke up. "Maybe he's just trying to process everything like we are? Or maybe he just didn't want to talk about it. It was a pretty terrifying night, Hermione." A small 'yeah' was followed by Neville, who slowly blinked his eyes at the bushy haired girl.

Hermione looked exasperated. "If that were true then he'd avoid watching us like  _we're_ the one's that caused everything!" She tucked a strand of hair that escaped her ponytail behind her ear. "But he's not so that could only mean that there's something he's planning that involves our downfall."

"Oh don't flatter yourself, Granger," a snide voice said. All eyes were open and looking behind the Ravenclaw girl who looked even more red than before, though this time she didn't look embarrassed. "I'm not up to anything that could involve your sorry hides," Draco Malfoy sneered.

"Then why have you been watching us?"

"Because I can't help notice that you aren't at all curious as to why Professor Snape was coming out of the forbidden corridor," Malfoy answered. He sat down at the table in the open seat, making it obvious for his distaste about the company by scooting the chair as far away from Hermione. She growled in distaste and scoots away from his as well and all Harry could do was feel his eye twitch in annoyance. Neville looked too far sleepy to really care.

"He's a teacher, it doesn't matter where he came from!" Hermione replied. She was getting ready for a heated argument, Harry was sure. "He probably has a VIP pass to go there from the Headmaster himself!"

"What about his injury? It wasn't there before dinner," Draco countered. 

"Maybe he fell down one of the stairs? I'm sure it wouldn't have been unheard of for a teacher to injure themselves at this school."

"Why would Hogwarts intentionally harm one of her teachers?" Harry asked, leaning against his arm. He began to crack some of his knuckles under the table. 

"How should I know? Do I look like a thousands year old building, Harry?" Hermione asked. She was still red in the face but Harry sensed it was more out of frustration from everything. They had just finished a rather daunting essay for DADA that Hermione created three rough drafts over a course of three hours after even more hours of research. 

"You'd be more tolerable if you were."

"Draco!" Harry snapped. It was getting on his nerves hat he wasn't even trying to get to the point. "Why is this so disconcerting for you? Just tell us and stop trying and failing at using fancy words to get us to work for it. We're Ravenclaws but we're not one of your little followers that will listen to every word as you spell out the puzzle."

Draco leant forward, adding in the dramatics as he laced his fingers together as his elbows rested on the table, looking directly into Harry's eyes. "The other day, I managed to peak inside that door he came out of. There was a  _freaking_ Cerberus inside. It was sleeping but it was obviously guarding something."

"And we're supposed to care?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. "So what? Surely there's been a three-headed dog in Hogwarts before."

"I owled my father about it the other day and I got a response from him saying it shouldn't even be on the grounds. He was planning on telling the rest of the Board of Governors the next they met, so they can find out  _why_ it's there."

"Well, we shouldn't worry about it then," Hermione said, opening her book again. "And you should go back to ignoring us like you've been doing since school started."

"I'll have you know that I'm only telling Potter this because he's my friend."

"A friend with benefits, you mean," Hermione threw at him. "As long as he survives to graduation and becoming successful you can tell all your friends about your connections with the Boy-Who-Lived."

"While that is true, that also means I have to make sure he survives, as you've just mentioned, Granger."

"Then we'll be making sure to avoid anything on that side of the third floor as much as possible until the Cerberus has been taken off the grounds, Malfoy. Good day, you can go now."

"How you can stand her, I don't understand," the Slytherin muttered, looking back at the other Ravenclaw. "You better not get yourself killed any time soon, or else my father will  _definitely_ hear about this. And not from me." And then the bright blond haired boy was leaving the library in a swish of his robes.

"Well, I don't understand why you wanted to be his friend in the first place," Hermione scowled, glaring at the pages in her book. "He's annoying, brutish, and all about blood purity. He'd rather wipe the feces of a hound from the bottom of his well-shined shoes then speak to a Muggleborn. It's infuriating."

Harry sighed, cracking his knuckles once again and frowning at the dissatisfied feeling it left. He tried other methods like putting pressure on a finger by pushing it on a hard surface or wiggling it with his fingers but nothing. Something was scratching at the back of his head and he was beginning to panic at the fact that nothing will make it go away.

"Harry, are you okay?" asked Hermione, her expression slipping into worry. "You don't look alright..."

"What's wrong now?" Neville asked, opening his eyes as he was waking himself up from the small five minute nap. His voice was filled with sleep but he gazed over at Harry, a frown on his face. "Did M'lfoy send a hex at you, 'rry?"

Harry didn't answer as he tried some stretching exercises, hoping it would distract him enough but as he finished the ones he could do sitting down, his frowned deepened.

"Is it your OCD, Harry?" Hermione asked again. She reached out to try and comfort the dark haired boy but she retracted it just as quick, standing up instead to walk around the table. "Do you need to do your ritual? It's a bit early..."

"What's OCD?" the Gryffindor asked.

"It's a mental illness that can be very serious. It's not contagious so don't you go fretting, Neville, but it  _can_ prevent some into living complicated lives," Hermione began to explain. She reached out to help Harry once again but he flinched, getting up and began to run his hands against the spine of the books in their area. "It's short for Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, in case you're wondering. It can't be cured but it can be helped so that those with it can live somewhat normal lives. Those who have it have reoccurring thoughts and behaviors that they  _have_ to do to a certain extent before they can feel relaxed enough to do something else. Harry's, though, seems a bit serious and I've never seen him go into something like this." Hermione began to fret, biting her nails as she watched helplessly as Harry moved around the bookshelf to continue.

"Does that mean he's sick?" Neville asked, watching Harry, wary. "Should we take him to Madam Pomfery?"

"No, there's nothing she can really do. He just has to do what he needs to do until the anxiety goes away."

They were quiet for a few more minutes before Harry rushed back, collected his things and ran out of the library. Alarmed, Hermione and Neville quickly followed after, gaining looks from the other students as they rushed past them in the corridors.

They were glad to slow down only minutes later, but blanched when they recognized where they were. The forbidden wing of the third floor. Harry stood still in front of the door Hermione recognized to be the one that Snape had left only nights ago, his hand pressed firmly against the wood. The two walked closer and could hear faint growls emitting from the other side. They were reminded what was behind the door and they rushed quickly to Harry's side to try and pull him away.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Neville hissed, more worried and fearful than anything. He clung to Harry's arm as they moved further from the door, Hermione taking the lead to take them to the Great Hall safely.

"There was someone with it," Harry muttered, using his free arm to rub at his forehead. "I... I couldn't just...  _not_ go, it didn't feel right. But there was someone with the dog and when I got there, there was a hissing sound and then my scar hurt..."

"We should take you to Madam Pomfery then," Hermione said, looking behind her. "To check up on your scar to make sure there's nothing wrong with it. It's been hurting you a lot lately, hasn't it..."

"Yeah... I think... I think he's here...."

Neville felt something squirm in his stomach. "Who...?" He squeaked out.

"You can't mean..." Hermione caught on to Harry's meaning.

"Who?!"

Harry looked pale and clammy, and as they walked past the Great Hall, his facial expression caught some of the upperclassmen's eyes.

"Voldemort."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BIG REVEAL!  
> Again, this is another story where Harry finds out in some way but you know what, it works and I'm trying my best.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! :D


	6. F is for F***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, I'm keeping up with the once a week thing! 
> 
> I couldn't help it with this chapter's title. There's no other word that can really describe things by now LOL.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> :)

**Chapter 6: The Letter F**

 

 

"You can't be completely serious, Harry!" Hermione squealed once they were in a secure location. She had stored them in an empty classroom near the Great Hall, pacing all over the place. Her hair was out of her ponytail, curling everywhere like her thoughts. "You're saying that one of the safest places in the wizarding world has the most dangerous wizard inside it?!"

Harry sighed. He knew something like this would have happened immediately after he said his speculations. "Hermione, chill." He was on the receiving end on a rather harsh glare, which he flinched slightly but continued on anyways. "If there's a troll, then a giant three-headed dog, I wouldn't be surprised if there was some way for the Dark Lord hanging out at a school for children."

"Harry..." Neville stepped in, swinging his legs nervously as he sat on a desk that was pushed against the wall. "Aren't you worried? What if what you're saying is true, then what happens?"

The inkett shrugged. To be honest, he hadn't thought that far. If Voldemort was indeed at the school and he had a vengence for Harry, then shouldn't Harry be dead by now? Like, even if he was weak as heck then there should still be a kind of wizard handyman or follower that would kill for him or weaken Harry enough to have the deadliest wizard over the last couple of decades finally finish what he couldn't eleven or so years ago. 

"I guess I'm worried a little," Harry finally said, nibbling on his lower lip. "I mean, you're my friends, so if he's after me he'll be after you as well."

"But what about you, Harry!" Hermione squeaked. "We're worried about you and you're so nonchalant--"

"What?" Neville asked.

" _Unconcerned_ , Nev," Hermione answered. "Harry's so unconcerned with the possibility of dying at such a young age!"

Harry shook his head. "Not really. I mean, I figured it would happen at some point. Maybe from Voldemort- "a flinch from the two with him" - or from someone else. Life is unpredictable."

"That's so depressing, Harry," Hermione groaned.

"Get used to it, sistah," Harry couldn't help but return. The look he got in return was priceless and he couldn't help but chuckle, which resulted in Neville following and then Hermione. The tension that was plaguing their atmosphere lifted slightly and was nearly gone by the time they calmed down enough to wipe the tears from their eyes. It wasn't an entirely funny thing but with everything going on, it seemed completely hilarious.

They left the classroom soon after, going back to the Great Hall as dinner was nearing. They waved to Neville who went to the Gryffindor table while Harry and Hermione went to Ravenclaw's table. They greeted their yearmates and upperclassmen, waiting for dinner to appear as they whispered to each other quietly. The topic from before wasn't over but they still had to keep quiet about it. They may be young but they weren't completely stupid. 

 

***

 

They didn't talk much about it until December break rolled around. Neville and Hermione were going back home for break, which left Harry alone at school. Sure, there were some Ravenclaws staying due to some private reasons, along with Slytherin, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, but it wouldn't be the same. 

The only good thing is that the Weasleys stayed as well. That meant hearing that the Weasley twins, Gred and Forge respectively, were in deep trouble for bewitching multiple snowballs into flying at Professor Quirell's turban and watching as Percy Weasley berate the two, lovingly from what Harry could tell but he was sure his brothers didn't think so. Ron... well, as  _nice_ as he was, looked to still be sour about something.

Harry spent his time avoiding people to the best of his abilities. It seemed that now that there weren't a ton of people in the common room, more people were catching onto Harry's unique... way of life, as he'd like to put it. It wasn't a bad thing, no, they were quite happy with helping their cute little first year into doing his nightly rituals (by immediately leaving the common room by 8 pm so Harry didn't spend so long downstairs). 

He felt as if he was being watched, for the most of break. When he looked around he didn't seem to see anything out of the ordinary. But it made his skin crawl and made him very uncomfortable. The only time he felt safe was in the common room, after getting past the annoying eagle that seemed to have the most annoying riddles to ever ask ("What comes down but never goes up?" "Oh, I dunno, your grandfather's libido?").

He was actually glad that Christmas came around. It was something new in the constant routine of eat, study, sleep. He expected at most 2 presents (from Hermione and Neville, of course) and was surprised to find even more. 

From Hermione, he had, of course, a book. It wasn't a wizarding book, which was a relief because Harry did enjoy reading fantasy novels, even if he now knew that most of the magic would be completely useless. Neville gave him a small pot of  _Sansevieria_ or snake plant, which was supposedly easy to care for. And while Harry did have a somewhat good green thumb, he was thankful for it because he would be too busy anyways to take care of it.

The next three surprised him. One came from Mrs. Weasley, who gave him a dark blue knitted sweater with his first initial in shiny silver. He put it on straight away and tried the fudge that was sent with it. Apparently Fred and George had began to talk about him, as well with Percy and even Ron, who he was sure the latter was more out of slight distaste then being any kind of friendly.

The other was from Draco, who gave him a book about wizard chess, his reasoning was so he could have a new challenger since he was bored of all the others. Harry just smiled and knew that it wasn't because Draco was bored of everyone else and noted that he'd have to find a late Christmas present for both Mrs. Weasley and Draco.

The last was unmarked and inside the package was something curious. 

An invisibility cloak.

Harry couldn't resist trying it on in front of a mirror, watching as his body disappeared completely, his head floating ominously. A grin was on his face as he continued to play with the cloak. He made just his arm disappear, then a leg, then his other arm and his other leg. Then just his left side and then his right. He was surprised he could see underneath the cloak as he tried just his head and was partly glad that he didn't lose his head. 

Before he left for dinner to join up with the rest of the school that stayed for break (they had one long table for those staying and he usually sat with the twins or a lone Hufflepuff he was slowly befriending) he stored his new cloak in a neat square. He then returned to the package, hoping to find a card he can put it with so he can send a thank you but remembered that it was unmarked. Which then itched something in the back of his mind. 

Ignoring it, he continued down from the tower and into the Great Hall.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say this now but Ron probably won't be seen in a good light during Year 1. Maybe Year 2 will start to show his good side but I just need to get Ron's negative personality out there right away for this Harry. I can't have him be a dick for long, because he is one of my favourite characters (in the books, at least).


	7. G is for Gullible

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeeyyy....  
> Long time no see? If I give you a chapter will you forgive me for not doing the weekly thing?
> 
> I'm trying, really! I just... lost motivation for life for a little while. But I'm sick so while I'm resting in bed before I go to a job interview I'll try and publish a new chapter for all you lovely people.
> 
> And, in case some of you read some of my other stories about the commenting issue, I figured out that I won't be editing commenting stuff. There hasn't been an incident like last time so I figured that they're finally gone and I don't want to punish everyone for one person's annoying misconceptions. So commenting is still up for those that can't hold back their joy at a new chapter -3-
> 
> I have some idea for this chapter but I'm a bit nervous to the feedback for it and how people will react so... bear with me please!!!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> :)

**Chapter 7: The Letter G**

 

The itch never left. It was annoying. It was irritating. It pissed Harry off to the point that he gave off the air of a vexed lord, which was unusual for the small boy. Those that knew him best, which were other first years and those in Ravenclaw, were concerned, though each time they tried to bring it up they left even more unnerved then before. Harry wouldn't,  _couldn't_ , explain it. It was a puzzle that he just couldn't figure out the answer to and a part of him knew that only he should have been able to find it while a smaller part called out for help, which he ignored, regretfully.

He was oh-so glad when Hermione and Neville returned from break for he was not only dying from what had been happening since Christmas but also from pure boredom of having no one to talk to. Sure, George and Fred were nice enough and clearly seemed to have a soft spot for him at times, they just weren't enough for Harry's mental stimulation. Not that they weren't smart, some of their pranks were quite ingenious, but he felt that at that moment, they just wouldn't understand him.

So when they arrived for dinner on the last day of break, Harry had broke into a run and embraced the two while they were talking, hugging them as tightly as his thin arms could. They immediately hugged him back, a little less sudden but just as enthusiastic.

They separated and the two Ravenclaws dragged Neville to their own table as they fought over the other to see who could catch the other up the fastest. Which also included Harry telling them about the cloak with the unknown sender that was making Harry tear out his thick head of hair in frustration. 

"Harry, did you take this up with Professor Flitwick?" Hermione immediately said after Harry finished. "What if the cloak was bewitched or something? From.... From You-Know-Who?" She had whispered the last part, making sure that only the two boys could hear her. 

"I've been thinking about that, actually..." said Harry, moving around some peas on his plate with his fork. Besides him Neville shifted nervously, wringing his hands together as he stared at his plate. Hermione just continued to look intently at Harry, waiting for further information.

"I've been watching the Hogwarts staff while you were gone, just to see if there was any suspicious behavior now that there aren't a lot of kids here anymore, so they have, ya know, more freedom to be all creepy and stuff," he continued. "So when I got the cloak I didn't really feel the need to trust any of them at that moment, but I don't think it's all that bad. Just that it was given to me for a reason that I haven't figured out just yet. Maybe sneaking around but that's not even possible for me right now. Why would I need to do that?

"Anyways, I cancelled out our Head of House. He might be the best duelist of his year but he's definitely not evil. McGonagall is out too. She's not lax enough to be an evil overlord. Same with most of the others. But I'm thinking it's either Snape or Quirrell."

"Quirrell?!" Neville squeaked, his curiosity peaked. "Our stuttering DADA professor? Really?"

Harry nodded. Hermione wanted answers. Neville just worried.

"Snape is obvious sure," Hermione began, pushing her plate away from her. "Dark, brooding, and has the air of a bad guy you read about in books. But Quirrell?"

"I wandered around the castle a few times over break and I saw him acting unlike his usual self. He wasn't stuttering. He actually looked pretty confident, which was unlike himself. And he was walking towards the third floor."

Hermione was silent, arms on the table as her fists were stacked on each other, her head settled on them as well, thoughtful. "There are classrooms up there, he could have been having tutoring sessions with someone over break."

"In an empty classroom? Seems scandalous."

"Ew, Harry," Neville interrupted, wrinkling his nose as Hermione flushed red. "That's gross."

"Exactly. And Professor Quirrell isn't exactly very attractive. Not Diggory Attractive anyways. Maybe creepy stalker attractive that only people with weird fetishes find cute." Harry wanted to wash his mouth after he said that, followed after by his brain as Quirrell's face popped into his head with the dashing smile usually plastered on the boys that girls his age fell head-over-heels for. He shuddered.

"Do you think he sent you the cloak then?"

"No, someone close to my father must have sent it, but I don't know who," Harry shot down. He remembered reading the note during dinner, having brought it down thinking that there might have been a name somewhere on it but didn't have time to study it closer in his dorm. "I don't think he was in the same grade. If he knew him, he would have mentioned him, right?"

Hermione nodded awkwardly, her hand moving with it, as she continued to think. "And Snape? Anything awkward about him as well?"

"No. Just the usual stuff, but what Draco told us before break has been on my mind since. Why would he try and get past the Cerberus? Why would Voldemort?" Hermione and Neville flinched at the name of You-Know-Who but Harry ignored it. "But I don't think it's Snape just trying to get whatever the dog's guarding for his own use. I think he's trying to get it before someone else does."

"Before Quirrell?" Neville questioned. "Why does Quirrell need it?"

"Yeah. I dunno why though. Maybe he's a secret follower of Voldemort or something. Or he's Voldemort in disguise."

"Harry, you really  _got_ to stop saying his name so casually," Hermione said, sitting up. Her eyes darted around, as if he would pop up like Beetlejuice if you say his name enough times. 

"You do realize if you fear a name it just makes him more powerful, right?"

"Still...."

"Anyways, I was thinking about trying to trick Quirrell into admitting something about him sneaking around trying to get into the third corridor. Or leading him inside and confronting him about it. He seems like the type of guy that wouldn't notice until it's too late..."

"He does seem to be a little naive sometimes..." Hermione agreed. "But what if you're wrong? You could get hurt! Or worse, expelled!"

"Or he could save the entire world and continue his education," Harry responded, rolling his eyes. "All I have to do is figure out how to get past the three headed dog and find out what's it's guarding."

"Maybe Hagrid could help? I mean, he does seem interested in magical creatures, right?" Neville suggested. Over the first few months of first year the giant that lead Harry into the wizarding world invited the three of them for tea and hardass cakes and updates about how they were doing in school. They had met Fang, the already huge dog that was an even bigger softie, and learned about the dreams of all the dark and dangerous creatures Hagrid wanted to raise to show that they weren't all that bad. All Harry could think of was Newt Scamander, who had the same ideals and wrote  _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_.

Harry nodded, thinking and agreeing that that was a possibility. But he wanted to see if he could find the answer in a book first, before going for help. It would be easier just to ask but the fun is finding it yourself.

After dinner they parted, Harry did his routine, and they didn't converge again for another Dark Lord Talk until the weekend after a long week of learning.

They had managed to get the answer out of Hagrid anyways. Neither Harry nor Hermione had the time to look up how to get past a three-headed dog during their first week back at school and Neville didn't have the same motivation. Hagrid was excited to see the three of them again and to hear about their vacation. So much that when they asked he didn't seem to notice that he had slipped about the Cerberus.

 _Fluffy_.

He named the giant greek dog a name for a poodle. Harry would have shaken his head in disbelief if he didn't think that it was possible for Hagrid to even do that. He had a dog named Fang, who wasn't even close to how fierce the name could be.

Oh yeah, and Hagrid had a dragon egg now. After he said "I shouldn't have said that" for the second time, the three booked it out of there in the most polite way. 

"So we just need to find a way to recreate a lullaby and get past the dog with Quirrell following us and we'll find out whether or not Voldemort is back, yeah?" Harry said, cracking his fingers as they sat in the library, their usual spot.

"Must you say that so casually?" Neville asked, looking up from a second year herbology book. "It's a little weird."

"I was born weird. Embrace it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost wrote "Fantastic Breasts and Where to Find Them" LOL.


	8. H is for Harry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit it's been forever since I've written something for this fanfic haha. My bad, my bad. I've just been so busy with work and trying to even have motivation for anything creative. Hopefully I'll be able to do more stuff and convey this side of Harry. I forgot how complex I've made him in my head and sometimes I can't write what I want so I hope it all goes well!!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> :)

**Chapter 8: The Letter H**

 

They never did manage to find a way to  _ recreate _ a lullaby by the time exams rolled around (it would have been a little weird to go up to Professor Flitwick for a spell they could have used) but they did manage to get a hold of a muggle jewelry box that did play a rather soothing tune. Hermione borrowed it from a Muggleborn third year from Hufflepuff, stating that she had wanted to show it to her own Pureblooded dormmates who had never seen one before. She had it stored in her school bag, ready for action in case they managed to get it to Fluffy before the end of exams.

As for the exams themselves? Well, they were rather interesting. They were given special quills, brand new, that were charmed with an AntiCheating spell. Harry was absolutely facsinated with the prospect and considered the idea of adding something similar to muggle pencils and pens and if such a thing would be legal or not. Probably not, once it was found out that the item was bewitched. He might even get in trouble, Boy-Who-Lived or not. 

Each exam was unique in it's ownself. Harry quite enjoyed the Charms exam, though he didn't exactly enjoy Potions it was at least easy enough not to stress over his results, out of all that were given. 

The three of them (Harry, Hermione and, of course, Neville) had all decided it was best to relax outside and enjoy the sunshine after their last exam had finally ended. It was during this time that Hermione decided it was best to go through their exams, though it was surprisingly turned down by both boys. She had thought Harry wouldn't have minded, considering he's done it multiple times before, but she didn't take into account that the other boy would have been emotionally taxed by studying himself. Neville's excuse was pretty obvious. 

About ten minutes in Harry couldn't hold back the small groan and the need to rub his forhead, which, along with the annoying itch that hadn't stopped for the past few weeks, had been hurting off and on during exams. 

"I wish I knew what this means!" he cried out, agitated. The calm that was there was immediately broken as Hermione shifted forwards to try and ease the smaller wizard while Neville couldn't help but touch the back of the inkette's other hand in a sign of comfort. Both were worried at his sudden outburst, which rarely happened unless the boy was too stressed or overwhelmed.  

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"My scar," he clarified, sitting up and rubbing it more of the ball of his hand as he squeezed his eyes shut. "It keeps hurting... It's happened before, but not as often or as painful as this."

Hermione hummed, pursing her lips together as she scooted forwards to push away dark strands, studying the old wound as if it would give her the answers to the universe. "We should go to Madam Pomfrey. Maybe she'll have an answer as to why it's been bothering you so much."

"I'm not ill, Hermione..." Harry protested. He had already gone to the infirmary enough times this year, usually over false alarms over his scar, that he didn't want to spend another hour on a bed that smelled too clean with other children looking at him in awe. It seemed that his fame still startled many even though it's been months since he's entered back into the wizarding world. 

"Maybe it has something to do with V-Vold-Voldemort," Neville suggested, whispering the evil man's name, looking around as if said man would pop up out of nowhere. Neville and Hermione had been making an effort to not fear the name, as Harry had pointed out that fearing it would only make the man stronger. They still shuddered when the word made it past their lips but it was progress. "I-If he's still here and all..."

The witch gave him a curious look and prompted his thoughts further.

"W-Well, since he gave Harry the scar and all you'd think that there'd be some form of phantom feeling behind it right? A curse mark  _is_ created with dark magic and I heard from my Gran that dark magic uses a lot of emotions behind it."

"I haven't read much about the Dark Arts, only what Quirrel has supplied us for textbooks, but that makes sense."

Harry couldn't help but roll his eyes despite the headache that he could feel coming on from all the pain. "Most magic could be dangerous. It's all about intent, you know. I'm sure we can blind someone using Lumos if we put enough negative thought and intent behind it."

"Magic is surely an interesting concept," Hermione muttered, looking back to be deep in thought. "In either case, the possibility of it being  _him_ is about as high as it being Dumbledore. It could be a nerve and..." The dark haired withc continued to talk about the possibilities of it being other things.

The boys let her ramble on as Harry did his best to massage his temples to ease the pain further away from his mind and to focus ont he warm sun touching his skin and the fresh breeze that brought the whispers of summer. 

"We should check out what's under the trap door tonight," Neville suddenly said, making Hermione trail off into silence and made Harry look up so fast that he swore he could have gotten whiplash, both looking at the shy boy in shock. Never before had they thought that this boy would say something so brash, but each Gryffindor did have some parts of the stereotype in them. 

"Pardon?"

"Well, we have everything we need, right? We have the Muggle lullaby thing and Harry's cloak is big enough to fit all three of us if we squish together. All we need to do is hope that what's on the other side isn't dangerous..." Neville was playing with his hands, twisting his fingers together as her nervously looked up at the two between a fringe of blonde hair. 

"And since it's the end of exams I'm sure everyone would either be fast asleep or celebrating in their dorms," Hermione muttered as she took in Neville's words. "We'd be practically invisible to most too, and if Harry and I use the excuse of going to the library to double check our answers that we remember from our exams, our house wouldn't see it as too out of our usual routine. I'm sure some of the older students might be a little worried, seeing how they do help Harry with his nightly routine, but they'd probably see it as an easy way to get everyone to leave early to their dorms so Harry could just do it and go upstairs to sleep."

"And then Neville could easily slip past his peers since he isn't normally seen with anyone else outside of the two of us," Harry continued her train of thought. Neville gave a small outcry of offense but quieted quickly as he realised how true it was. Then shrugging it off he continued the thought process.

"And no one would really notice it anyways. I'm sure Dean and Seamus might be worried a little but I think they would sleep easy tonight after Gryffindor parties a little. I heard from Fred and George that they do it every time they end exams so that they could relax after OWLs and NEWTs and normal exams."

For the rest of the day, the three of them managed to look as normal as possible until the clock struck nine and all common rooms were filled to the brink with students, relaxing after the last day of tests. 

Hermione and Harry managed to slip out without being asked anything, as most of their year and above were busy being distracted by other things, with Harry's cloack securely in his school bag. They met Neville at the entrance to the third floor corridor, who looked relieved to see them as soon as they rounded the corner and took off the cloak.

"I think I saw Quirrel go down here a couple of minutes ago," he whispered to them as they made their way down to the door that held Fluffy. "He was whispering something to thin air, probably was going crazy or something teaching kids and having to smell garlic all the time."

"Probably has something to do with his You-Know-Who senses," Hermione joked, rolling her eyes. 

"Wouldn't be surprised if he was attached to his head at this point," Harry muttered, but couldn't help but give a small smile. 

They stopped and looked to Hermione who took out the jewelry box and twisted the little key, holding it down as Harry unlocked the door and pushed it open. As soon as they steped inside they noticed that the dog was already asleep.

"Shoot," Hermione whipsered, her hand still on the key. "He's already asleep."

"I'd still play the box, if I were you," Neville told her. "Dunno if he might wake up between here and there." He pointed forwards and they noticed the paw resting slightly on the door. 

Hermione nodded and let go of the key, opening the lid to let the soft melody encompass the entire room. It didn't interrupt the hoarse grumbling snores of the cerberus, thankfully, and the three eleven year olds snuck towards the door. Harry was the one voted to move the paw, which he tried to do his best without getting Neville to help as Hermione opened the door. As soon as they had it opened, they stood in front of the square opening, looking at the darkness that welcomed them.

"Who's going first?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm tempted to add a Harry Potter fic to this series where he was raised by a kind Dursley family, if that makes sense. I kinda wanna explore a more Dumbledore bashing, BAMF Ron Weasley, Brash Hermione Granger and well-loved Harry Potter story, but I'm unsure if it'll be welcomed or not... Thoughts?


	9. I is for Ignoramus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol I couldn't resist using "ignoramus" for this chapter.... Well that and it was the first word that entered my head after "igloo", so....
> 
> Anyways, if you don't read my Slytherin!Harry story "At the Darkest Hour" but read all the others, I posted a note that said that I've solidified all the pairings for all 5 of my HP fanfics... mostly... The Harry ones at least. So it's gonna be rare for me to switch pairings half way through unless I accidentally write something that makes the pairing not work.... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Anyways, hope you like the chapter!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> :)

**Chapter 9: The Letter I**

 

Harry nervously cracked his knuckles, glancing down at the darkness that was before him. Hermione gulped. Neville began to sweat. Neither of the children wanted to be the first one to go down a dark hole, especially since none of them knew what was actually down there.

Gathering up what little courage he had, Neville stepped forwards. "Wish me luck," he whispered to the others, and jumped down into the abyss. They waited for conformation.

"It's okay, guys! It's just a Devil's Snare!" they heard his voice echo out. Hermione sighed in relief and Harry just slumped forwards, no longer as stiff as he was. Devil's Snare he could handle. It's a simple plant to deal with, especially if you pay attention to Sprout in Herbology. 

At the same time, the two Ravenclaws jumped into the hole, Hermione taking the muggle toy with her and stashing it into her bag once she landed. She would need to return it to it's owner as soon as this was over and everything was back to normal. 

Now, Harry figured that, under different circumstances, he might have struggled and fought against the vines that were slowly crawling their way up his body. He might, even, be with someone who would struggle as much as he and maybe both of them would have been heavily sarcastic as the weight of vines crossed their chests. 

But he would put Ravenclaw to absolute shame if he acted on any of those minor impulses. It might be stereotypical of him, but he did as much research as he could about herbology, especially on first year. Second year he had just begun the week before, to destress from exam nerves.

It seemed almost simultaneous as Hermione and him slowly began to drop down until they landed hard on stone flooring. Waiting for them, close to the edge of the wall, was Neville. He seemed to look almost bored, despite looking like someone sprayed him with cold water, his shoulders nearly hunched all the way to his ears.

"Well, that was hardly a challenge," Harry moaned, cracking his knucles for the third time that hour. He looked around the small hallway they were in, wincing at the poor taste in patter, with the different sized cobblestones that were there. Couldn't wizards at least be somewhat close to exact when it comes to building? It's not that hard, muggles can do it just fine.

"Maybe it's like a videogame," Hermione suggested. She gained a weird look from both boys. Neville was more curious to know what a videogame  _was_ and Harry wondered how she even  _knew_ what a videogame looked like. "What? Girls play too, you know. I enjoy  _Tetris_ , thought I have yet to beat my high score of nine hundred and fifty-nine points."

"What's  _Tetris_?" Neville asked.

"A muggle strategy game," Harry answered. "Sorta like a puzzle, except you have to have all the pieces be level in a stack and have it disappear. Each level it gets faster and faster as they fall down, making it harder to get to the next level."

Hermione nodded, arms crossed in front of her. "Exactly. The Devil's Snare must be level one, which can be completed at a slower speed. The next chamber must hold what could be the equivalent of level two, which may have to be done at a much faster pace then this one."

"I just hope it's not potions," Harry muttered, already feeling the dread pool into his stomache. "I don't like potions."

Neville grunted in agreement. Hermione just sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Let's just go and find out! The faster we can get through this the faster we can get whatever is down here back to Dumbledore where it can be safer!" Hermione grumped, and lead the two boys down the only way they  _could_ go.

All Neville and Harry could do were shrug and follow the girl, knowing it was in their best interest to do so. She may only be eleven but there's a reason she's referred to as the brightest witch of their year.

With each step they took the trio could hear a rustling noise, almost like that of a bird's wings. All three were confused until they made it towards the light that was growing bigger as they moved closer. As soon as they came to the opening of the chamber, it all made sense.

Glittering, jewel like birds ( _Could they be considered birds?_ Harry thought, gazing up at them in awe) were fluttering about the room, going under beams holding up the stone and bushing lightly against one another. Hermione and Neville stared up at them too, mouth agape. Harry was the one to close his first, eyes glancing around and catching sight of the thick wooden door on the opposite side of the room.

"Look!" he said, garnering the other's attention. He pointed finger to the door. "A way through!"

Harry quickly lead the charge through the glittering birds, aware that the delicate avians were parting away from him. Hermione and Neville followed.

Pulling at the door, Harry frowned. It was locked. He turned back towards his friends. Hermione looked to be just as disappointed as he felt and Neville was still looking at the flying birds in awe.

"Now what?"

"Those are keys!" Neville exclaimed as an answer. Harry adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose (it had tilted slightly when he had gone through the glittering swarm of wings and it had begun to irk him) and squinted his eyes to try and ge a better look. At the same time he thought about adding a spell to his glasses to allow him to zoom with a simple squint. If it doesn't exist he's sure Hermione wouldn't mind helping him create it.

But Neville was right. What they thought were birds were really just winged keys, the glittering being whatever metal they were made of in the lighting of the chamber. Most looked to be the same design, with subtle differences, and their wings resembled dragonflies, just much larger.  

Looking around some more, Harry's eyes caught the broomsticks laying against the wall. He quickly pointed to them, gaining their attention. "Broomsticks! We've got to catch the key to the door."

"But there are hundreds of them!" Hermione complained. She wasn't particularly good at flying, just barely passing which pissed her off more than she'd like to admit. 

Nevile had paled, remembering their first flying lesson, but swallowed back his fear. The classes after that one turned out just fine. He turned out to be quite a good flyer, though not noteworthy for anything but casual Friday laps around the pitch. He wasn't the fastest nor the slowest. Just average.

As for Harry, he had a surprising knack for it. He had been one of the best, even gaining the eye of the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain who urged him to try out for next year. Sports wasn't Harry's forte but he would admit that the idea of being good at a wizarding sport wasn't that bad. Out of the three of them, he was probably the best, despite the fact that there were multiple for many to use.

"We're looking for a specific key, probably something big and old-fashioned looking, seeing that the lock looks to be older than what we usually have. Possibly a silver color, like the handle," Harry observed. He looked around the swarm of keys, green eyes glittering like their wings as he saw the perfect key in just a few seconds. It wasn't hard, he had a knack for spotting things other people didn't. 

It was a large silver key, looking more used than the rest with the bent wing. He noted it to Neville and Hermione, who tried their best to find the key, with them taking longer than Harry to spot it in the mass of metal. When they did, Harry was already in the air, trying his best to catch the key as it realized it was being targeted. 

The other keys then changed course of action, beginning to swarm and chase the young wizard and protect the other key. Harry tried to corner the key against the wall and saw that it wasn't working. Any strategy he could think of with using just himself also failed. He told so to the others. 

"Try guiding the key towards us!" Hermione called back. She and Neville were still by the door. "We'll help you catch it!"

He nodded and went back to chasing the wild and bent key. He wondered if a sheep dog felt like this when he herdered the sheep day and night as he flew the key towards his friends. 

It was a success. Neville snatched it out of the air as soon as it reached them and Harry jumped off of the broom, wincing as his knees almost gave out from the pressure of the force. Physics still existed, even in the wizarding world. He should have remembered that.

The trio quickly stuffed the key into the lock, the other keys honing in on them faster than a bludger, and would have impailed the children if they didn't slam the now unlocked door behind them. They thudded against the wood but thankfully didn't make it to the other side. The three went still as a tiny scraping of metal against metal was heard at the door but stopped as soon as the last clink was heard. Their key must have squirmed out and joined its friends.

The trio sighed in relief and nearly sagged against each other. 

The next chamber was dark until they continued to walk through it, revealing a large chess board. There were a few broken pieces already on the board, ready for new pieces to join in their wake. Harry felt the blood drain from his face. He was horrendous at chess, especially wizarding chess. Now if it was checkers....

"We seriously don't have to play across, do we?" Hermione wondered. Neville shrugged and looked towards their third member. He didn't like the fact that Harry was making at the board.

"Does anyone know how to play?" Hermione asked again. Both boys shook their head and Hermione sighed in exasperation. "Well neither do I. So how are we going to get across then? I'm pretty sure we just can't walk across and expect to get away easily."

"What if we show we're just trying to save whatever it is that they're guarding?" Neville suggested.

"Impossible, considering we don't even know what it is," Hermione stated. She began to fidget with her curly hair, thinking of the possible ways to get across.

"We just go around," Harry said. He pointed to the small section that was between the chessboard and the stone wall. "There's nothing telling us we can't. As long as we don't touch the board we should be fine going through."

"B-But that's going against the rules of basic chess!" Hermione cried out. 

"But this isn't basic chess. It's wizarding chess. So we should expect that the rules should be different. And considering you and I are muggle-raised, it should be allowed that we can go around if we pleased since we don't know how to play. As for Neville, well, we can just hope it doesn't do anything to him if we go around."

Hermione didn't really like the idea but agreed to it. It was the only option she felt could work, even though it went against the rules. Neville was just glad they agreed on doing something because he wasn't sure how they'd be able to go back, considering the keys probably didn't like them now and going the other way through the snare would also be quite difficult.

Since it was Harry's idea, the black haired boy lead them around the board. He hugged the wall with his back, scooting along as he angled his feet fowards to give more space between the board and himself. He probably looked like a hieroglyph, but it was the safest option. Hermione and Neville followed.

Harry let out the air he didn't realize he was holding until he was on the other side of the board, the white pieces now in front of him with the black pieces on the other side. Hermione quickly joined him, almost sprinting to avoid any lashings from the white side. Neville joined them too, though he wasn't as lucky.

His foot had slipped onto the board, just slightly, awakening the white rook besides him. The blonde boy stilled, eyes widening as the thing came alive. It tilted towards him, and the Gryffindor leapt out of the way as fast as he could. 

Neville landed roughly on the ground, the pieces of the now fallen rook scattering around him. A larger piece hit his arm, creating a rather dull snap and a pained yelp from the older boy. Harry and Hermione rushed towards him, not minding the smaller chunks that scraped along their skin as they went towards their fallen friend.

Harry helped sit the boy up while Hermione checked on Neville's hurt arm. She was frowning the entire time while sniffles and big fat tears rolled down Nev's face. Harry didn't blame him. From the sound of that snap it sounded like a broken bone, and that hurt quite a bit. Harry was sure if that were him, he would have been much louder than Neville.

"It doesn't look good," Hermione muttered to them. A thin line of red was appearing on her forehead as small beads of blood slowly oozed out of the scratch. Harry was sure that he could now feel small cuts appearing on his own skin but he didn't pay attention. Neville was more important.

"It r-r-really hurts," Neville managed to groan out. 

"This is the same arm from the flying lesson, too," Harry pointed out. "Is it his wrist?"

"No, it seems to be closer to the elbow," Hermione said. "It would have been a little less painful if it was the wrist, though."

Neville just whimpered in pain.

Harry frowned.

"You should help Neville back across," he told Hermione. The Ravenclaw girl frowned in return. "I don't think he'd be able to go the rest of the way without some medical attention. And if Voldemort  _is_ on the other side tonight then I don't think he'd be too happy to see either of you. As much as I hate to say this, it's my fight and my stupid scar that brought us down here."

"But Harry--"

"No Hermione," Harry interrupted. "I want you to go back with Neville, bring him to Madam Pomfery, and then try to get a professor. Snape perferably, but if you have to, McGonnagal or Flitwick would do as well. They're exceptional teachers, all of them, but Snape might be able to figure all these things out quickly, since it takes a lot to master potions."

"I still don't like the idea of you being alone in here," Hermione frowned. Neville, bless him, nodded in agreement despite being in quite a lot of pain. 

"I won't be," Harry said. "You'll be right here." He pointed to his heart, and he wondered if Hermione could tell he was slightly quoting a muggle movie. Guessing by the warmed look she and Neville were giving him, he guessed not. He wasn't the best with that sort of thing, he guessed. 

"Alright. Just.... Just be careful, okay?" 

"I will."

And then with on last look at the two who began to go back across the board, this time through the middle, seeing as they were no longer opponents, he darted into the next chamber.

 

* * *

 

 

It wasn't Voldemort on the other side. He was glad it wasn't, or else he'd be more shocked at how  _bad_ the dark lord smelled. Instead it was a troll, who was already knocked out cold. He was glad he didn't have to fight the thing, for he was sure that Snape wouldn't be here in time to save him again. 

Shuffling past the snorting creature, Harry hurried to the next chamber. 

Potions.

Great.

Lovely.

Terrific.

Absolutely fantastic.

Harry analyzed his surroundings and sighed in relief that he didn't really have to make anything. It was just a table already filled with potions. Stepping closer, he felt a heat behind him and noticed the purple flames that were now blocking his path. At the same time, black flames covered the other side. He was trapped.

Harry shrugged, though he cracked his knuckles and stretched his arms and back in discomfort, not liking the closed off feeling he was getting from being blocked on all sides. Instead he tried to focus on getting to the scroll that was sitting next to the bottles.

Picking it up, Harry read through it seven times before finally getting the answer. It was a little difficult, riddles not being a favourite of his, but he got through it just fine.

He drank the smallest of them all, shivering at the chill it gave him before stepping confidantly through the black fire and to the other, and hopefully last, chamber.

He wasn't surprised to see who was on the other side, but for the man's sake and ego, he gave a terribly acted and fake "You!" once he saw the purple turban.

"Me," Professor Quirrell said calmly. "I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Potter." (1)

"B-But I thought-- Snape--"

"Severus?" Quirrell laughed, though it wasn't the usual nervous sounding one he was known to do all year. It was cold and sharp. "Yes, Severus does seem the type, doesn't he? So useful to have him swooping around like an overgrown bat. Next to him, who would suspect p-p-poor, st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?"

Harry was getting tired of the act and the haughty attitude his DADA professor was giving him.

"Me, of course," he said, blunt and to the point. Quirrell looked to be shocked how how his face morphed so quickly. "I mean, sure, Snape looks like that, yeah, but you really need to do research on stutterers. Stuttering, while it can act like that, usually ends up stuttering the full word on most occasions. Sure, you can be like Bill Denbrough from  _It_ , but really, you're neither a pre-teen boy or his older self."

Quirrell began to really stutter through his words, now angry than shocked. After a few attempts he just morphed into a more angry version of his professor self and snapped his fingers, springing ropes out of thin air and wrapping them around the Ravenclaw boy. "No matter, I'm just going to kill you tonight."

Harry stiffened at that, which caused the man to smirk in satisfaction. 

"I wish you were nosier, so that way it would be a bit more enjoyavle, but you don't seem the type to go after an adventure like this every day, it seems. Most had beleived you'd be in Gryffindor, and I sort of wished that too so I could make your life more miserable, but this would have to do."

With that, Quirrell turned around to the mirror that was standing behind him. Harry would have noticed it if he wasn't too focused on getting the ropes of of him throughout the evil man's stupid speech.

 _I mean, really, does he think he's all that?_ , Harry wondered, irritated.

"Wair here quietly, Potter, while I examine this interesting mirror," Quirrell said. Harry wondered if this was Quirrells way on extracting information. If it was it was boring and poorly acted.

"This mirror is the key to finding the Stone," the professor muttered. "Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this... but he's in London... I'll be far away by the time he gets back..."

"What stone?"

"You're a Ravenclaw, Potter. Figure it out before you die and you'll win an all expense vacation to the underworld." 

"Well since you're probably working for Voldemort," Harry said, noting the slight flinch the man gave," then it's probably a stone used for immortality, of a sorts. Meaning that it's most likely an alchemy based stone. And I only know of one, really, that has that type of properties that can give eternal life  _and_ was made with an alchemist's talent: the Philosopher's Stone."

"How quick of you..." Quirrell praised, though the annoyance was clear in his voice. He turned back to the mirror. 

"I see the Stone... I'm presenting it to my master... but where is it?"

Harry didn't need clues to know what this mirror was. The writing, though backwards, was easy to see. The Mirror of Erised, desire, was in plenty of books, from illusions to advanced magic. He was curious to see what he'd see when looking, but wasn't sure if he was strong enough to turn away from the image.

"Where is your master? I'm guessing you have to have constant contact with him to be able to follow anything he gives you." Harry really hoped that Quirrell was just crazy for once, and that Voldemort was still dead and his scar really was just from testing and stress.

"He is with me wherever I go. I met him when I traveled around the world..." Quirrell began and Harry was getting tired and sick of his monologuing. He did  _not_ want a lecture.

"... decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me..." Qurrell's voice trailed away when Harry zoned back in. 

"I don't understand! Is the Stone insde the mirror? Should I break it?" The professor was back to muttering about the mirror. "What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!"

Okay, Quirrell  _was_ crazy.

"Use the boy... Use the boy..." a small voice came out.

Or a great ventriloquist.

"Yes... Potter, come here," Quirrell said. He clapped his hands together once and the ropes fell off. Harry was glad he could feel his arms and legs again, scratching a little at his skin on his hands as he stepped forwards. He didn't want to but it was the safest option.

"Look in the mirror and tell me what you see," the man ordered. Harry stood in front of him, looking at his reflection in the glass.

Besides him were plenty of people. A man with messy black hair and hazel eyes and a woman with red hair and green eyes -- his parents -- were standing directly behind him. They looked proud to see him. Hermione and Neville and Draco and even a couple of others from his house and others were besides him, smiling and waving at the boy. Dudley was even there, wearing what looked to be wizarding robes and a pointed hat. His reflection then waved, catching Harry's attention. 

They locked eyes, one winked, and the other felt something heavy land in his pocket.

"Well? What do you see/"

"I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore," he said automatically. "I've just been told I'm Head Boy."

Quirrell cursed and the same voice from earlier spoke again. "He lies.... He lies... Let me speak to him.... face-to-face..."

Quirrell's face dropped. "Master you're not strong enough!"

"I have strength enough... for this..."

For the second time Harry was shocked to see something in that chamber. As Quirrell unraveled the ugly purple turban, the pale, squished face of the dark lord stretched itself on the back of his professor's head. It seemed to smirk in his general direction.

"Harry Potter..." it whispered. "See what I've become? Mere shadow and vapor... I have form only when I share another's body... but there have always been those...." Harry shouldn't have zoned out but the shock had died away quickly and he was getting bored again. What is with evil guys and speeches anyways?

"Now why don't you give me that Stone in your pocket?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't be a fool," it snarled. "Better save your own life and join me... or you'll meet teh same end as your parents... They died begging me for mercy..."

"Liar!" he shouted. He angrily stuffed his hands in his pocket and grasped the rock that had suddenly appeared in his pocket. "You probably don't even remember how they died, considering you're just a wraith in a borrowed body. Your memory is probably lacking."

That angered the lord, urging the professor to step backwards towards the boy, demanding Harry to give him the stone. Harry took this to run past the two, heading towards the flames. The reaction time of his professor would be slow, considering changing directions were always difficult for humans, so he knew that he would be fine without anything too bad for having.

"Sieze him! Sieze him!" Voldemort shirked, and Quirrell lunged forwards this time, snagging Harry's wrist before shrieking himself. A small part of his hand grabbed at Harry's palm and it was beginning to crumble to ash.

"Master, I cannot hold him, my han--"

"Then kill him, fool, and be done!" screeched Voldemort. 

As his hands began to crumble more, Quirrell began to speak a deadly curse, but Harry was quicker. He lunged himself to his professor, placing his palms, open, on the skin of his enemy. It crumbled more and Harry did his best to hold on as the man struggled. 

Quirrell screamed untill he died as nothing but a pile of ash, his clothes dropping over and in them. Black smoke poured out from it, forming the shape of a man before it screamed at the Ravenclaw, passing trhough the boy and escaping through the fire.

Harry thought he heard people calling his name as he fell into darkness himself. All he could think was that his professor, or rather ex-professor, was an idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually have no idea what breaking a bone sounds like cause lucky little me only had one major bone issue growing up and it was just a fractured wrist brace. So the breakage of an appendage is just a guess on my part.
> 
> (1) By this point I started to quote the actual chapter, so most of what's going on is sorta cannon.


	10. J is for Jarta and Juncture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I last updated in July of this year... And the last comment I had was in August of this year... And now it's December.... 
> 
> Whelp! Gotta update at least more than once this year! And my fall quarter is ending soon so I should be able to have more brain power to update stuff by the end of next week so hopefully more chapters come out before January 2019. If not, my bad for getting your hopes up.
> 
> I'll let you take a few minutes to review what happened last chapter before reading this one, cause I had to see where I stopped to remember what I was gonna do for this chapter haha. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> :)

**Chapter 10: The Letter J**

 

Harry didn't remember much of his time in the healing ward of Hogwarts. A pair of half moon glasses hanging over him from time-to-time, curls of chocolate, the croaking of a toad, the smell of hair gel and expensive cologne, and chocolate. When his eyes finally fluttered open, he was alone until Madame Pomfrey came bustling in to check on him and nearly had a heart attack when she saw the dark haired first year munching on some Berties and half a choclate frog. 

Of course, she confiscated all of Harry's treats until he was discharged a day later.

He was greeted by his enthusiastic friends, Hermione nearly choking him with how tight her arms were around his neck as she muttered something under her breath as she sighed in relief. Neville gave a hug as well, but definitely much more gentle but still had the same drooped shoulders of solace that Hermione had. 

Draco had come by the Ravenclaw table, congratulating Harry on defeating whatever was inside the third corridor while also looking to be more relaxed than Harry had ever seen him. If Malfoy gave Harry a physical pat on the back as he walked back to Slytherin on the last day of school as they celebrated their House Cup win, they didn't tell anyone, despite the small quirk of their lips as they coerced with their own group of friends.

It was only on the train that Harry felt like he was going to cry. He was leaving a safe place, one where he had friends that were like family to him. The realization that he almost died that year hit him like the Hogwarts Express as he sat on the pleather seats of the train, his friends across from him as well.

"You okay, Harry?" Neville asked, always the sympathetic. 

"Yeah," came his croaked reply, sounding supiciously like Trevor. "Just finally realizing some things. Gotta think through it, is all..."

Hermione and Neville shared a look but didn't pressure him, which Harry was quite thankful for. His friends were so nice, even though his quirks were done with irrational thoughts and annoying sounds. 

The atmosphere didn't return until halfway through the trainride when Harry finally gained control of his emotions and said a rather childish joke that made Neville confused and Hermione gafaw in sarcastic laughter. 

That type of behavior continued for the next couple of hours until they arrived at Platform 9 and 3/4.

Harry thanked one of the third years for helping him with his trunk before turning towards the others. In the distance, behind the two, Harry saw Draco give a half wave in his direction before following two blond adults towards a fireplace and disappearing through the crowd.

"Promise to write, yeah?" Harry asked them both.

"Of course," Hermione responded. "You really think we'd ignore you for the entire summer just because of a troll incident and You-Know-Who coming back as a wraith?"

"Yes, actually, because that's scary," Harry replied as seriously as he could, but he couldn't help but crack a smile, which caused the trio to giggle. 

"I'll write," Neville said, gaining control of his voice. "Even if Gran gets mad at me wasting paper and ink, since I'll have a hard time writing what I want to say and all."

"And as soon as I get an owl, Harry, I'll send you some post," Hermione continued.

"Thanks," the black haired wizard said. "That really means a lot."

"What are friends for?"

Then they hugged, Neville heading towards an elderly woman with a hideous wardrobe and Hermione following Harry towards the exit to the platform. They went one at a time going through the barrier to the muggle world.

Hermione's parents were there, looking almost identical to Hermione as they smiled and waved towards their daughter. She grinned and waved back, giddy, and turned towards Harry to see his frown.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Green eyes scanned through the crowd.

"I can't find them."

"Who?" The bushy haired girl quirked a brow and looked around as well.

"My uncle and aunt. They should be here..."

They stood there for a few minutes, Hermione's parents walking over and joining them as they realized that Hermione wasn't going towards them. When Hermione explained who they were looking for, they too looked for the large man and horse of a woman, but as time went by, they frowned as well. 

Feeling a little guilty (and stricken with panic) he waved off the Granger's concerns and promised that he'd be fine to wait without them. Maybe the Durselys were just a little late. Who knows, with end of school traffic and the start of summer vacation happening.

Mrs. Granger looked a bit doubtful and excused herself, disappearing amongst the crowd before coming back with a slip of paper in her hands.

She handed it to Harry. 

"Please call us, Harry, if your aunt and uncle don't show up. Daniel and I would be happy to come back and pick you up and take you back home, or even stay at our house this summer. Just,  _please_ don't stay here until it's too late. You're just a boy, Harry. You're too young for too much responsibility."

Then Hermione and the Grangers bid Harry a temporary farewell before heading to their car, though the youngest of the three kept looking towards Harry who settled on a bench between platforms 10 and 9. 

Waiting.

With the Granger's phone number in his hand, his thumb rubbing against the paper as he anxiously looked around the station.

His aunt and uncle should be here any minute now.

Any minute now...

Any...

Minute...

Now...

.

.

.

.

.

 

They weren't coming. 

It had been two hours since the train had let them off. It was 6 o'clock, way past rush hour for trains on a weekday in the summer.

Harry's hands were now gripping onto his knees, his left hand still holding on to the parchment Mrs. Granger gave him. 

He could feel the pity filled eyes of those that have been there nearly as long as he, but for different reasons of waiting.

Getting up, Harry dug into his worn sneakers, lifting the tape that covered the extra muggle money he stored in case of emergencies, and walked towards a telephone booth.

Inside, he put in the correct amount, dialed the number, and waited.

And waited.

Any second now...

Any...

Second...

 

The phone picked up and Harry felt tears creep up at the corners of his eyes as he heard Mr. Granger's voice on the other end.

"Hullo, Mr. Granger? Yeah, it's Harry... Can you come pick me up? Please? ...... Thank you, I'll see you soon."

 _Click_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be a little short, because I ended at a terrible spot last chapter and I think I had something months ago and I forgot it now, so hopefully it'll be enough until I get to Year 2.


End file.
